


soutori fic collection

by searwrites (sears)



Category: Free!
Genre: Fic Collection, M/M, each chapter is its own fic, see each chapter summary for fic warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sears/pseuds/searwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>originally posted to tumblr</p><p>----------</p><p>these are all originally prompts from my askbox on tumblr. each chapter is its own respective fic. (rating may increase as more fics are added)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1am

**Author's Note:**

> from tumblr prompt meme: 1-things you said at 1 am  
> (LETS ASSUME their illicit practice sessions happened really late at night)

"you’re like a little kid," sousuke says, rolling his eyes as ai - again - does this torpedo twirl thing he made up with a kickboard in the water.

ai chucks the red foam board at sousuke’s head with a shocking amount of force. sousuke ducks to avoid it, and then looks at ai like a bewildered pet.

"stop berating me for having fun," ai grumbles.

he’s getting better. at swimming, at holding himself. confidence, really. he calls sousuke out on his moods quite easily now.

"no one’s  _berating_  you, you’re too cute for that,” sousuke mumbles, turning to remove the kickboard from the pool altogether, and he freezes a little after he realizes what he’s just said.

"cute?" ai sloshes forward gracefully, pulling up to the edge of the pool on his elbows, peering over sousuke’s shoulder with a knowing grin.

"stop," sousuke commands, using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from smiling. "whatever you’re doing, stop it now."

ai kicks away from the wall, the water glittering in soft ripples around his waist. the way it’s so quiet in here makes it seem like everything he does is delicate - even the flailing mess he was during their first few sessions. it took sousuke a while to realize he wouldn’t break him just by touching him.

"i’m not doing anything," ai says innocently.

sousuke smirks, wades towards ai with every intention of dunking his tiny little head in some kind of playful punishment, but it all flies out the window when ai leaps onto his side. for ai to dunk  _him_ he would need twice his body weight, so his efforts are fruitless, except for the fact that he tugs on sousuke’s shoulder, and of course he notices the way he winces from it.

"i’m sorry, sorry, let me-"

ai starts to massage at his shoulder, which tells sousuke he knows more than he lets on, but sousuke stops him by snatching his wrist, pulling it away.

"don’t," he says.

ai pulls away, gently, the quiet ripple of water around their bodies soothing the tension in the air. sousuke doesn’t let him pull his wrist away, not completely. he flips his hand over, threads their fingers together. his heart hammers, adrenaline like winning a race, when he feels ai squeeze his hand. even worse when he sees ai blushing, looking down.

"sorr-"

” _don’t_  apologize,” sousuke says, quiet yet firm. he would kiss ai’s delicate fingers if he didn’t think it would tip this from ‘maybe nothing’ to ‘probably something’. “you do that too much.”

ai bites his lip, tries not to grin. “is it bad if i want to apologize for saying sorry again?”

sousuke sighs, huffing out a quiet laugh when ai yelps as he lifts him with one hand, anchors him with an open palm to his lower back.

"no more kickboards, you don’t need them."

ai steadies his breath, turns and floats with sousuke’s hand on his belly. sousuke can feel the boy’s heart pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t say anything. ai will keep his secrets, sousuke will keep ai’s - it’s an arrangement that works, for now.


	2. asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from tumblr prompt meme: 12-things you said when you thought i was asleep

the van jostles over a bump in the road, and sousuke hisses quietly, palm hovering awkwardly over where ai’s head has slumped further into his chest. rin glances back from the front seat, smirks like he knows this is some kind of new hell for sousuke, and then huddles beneath a blanket to fall back asleep again. momotarou even begins to snore a little, sprawled out with the entire back seat to himself.

sousuke can’t sleep, his mind is buzzing from the swim meet, his chest warm where ai’s face is pressed to it. it’s his bad shoulder too, but he can’t let on he’s in pain, and ai is so light, his lips parted quietly in sleep.

"you did good," sousuke mumbles quietly, secretly, pressing his mouth to the crown of ai’s head, smelling the chlorine staining his hair. they won, by a slim margin, but rin’s new found optimism is infectious, or maybe it’s ai’s - maybe ai makes them all think they can do better.

out of a curious urge to be daring, sousuke lifts ai’s small, delicate little hand, stretches out his lax fingers and measures how terribly they fit against his. it makes him smile. even more so when he lets go and ai instinctively curls a gentle fist into sousuke’s tshirt.

he presses his face deeper into ai’s hair, sinks into the seat and lets himself get drowsy on the scent, on the way he knows ai’s smell, the warmth of his skin, the tiny white scar he has on his lower back. all the things ai’s shown him, and for all the nothing sousuke gives him in return.

"really good, you’re- just, really good."

-

ai sits next to sousuke sometimes, it isn’t uncommon. they practiced together, ai feels comfortable with him. rin just looks stupidly proud, and if he had any idea at all…

"how does it feel to be on the best swim team in japan?" momotarou confidently asks, and sousuke takes a second or two to realize it was directed at ai.

sousuke doesn’t see it, but he feels ai shift. ai slides his hand against the bench between them, skims delicate fingers over sousuke’s knuckles and leaves them there, just barely touching.

"good," ai says, biting his lip through a grin, and sousuke’s stomach swoops. "really good."


	3. ai in the maid dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from tumblr: lemedy asked:  
> i really do wish i had a more creative prompt, but since i can't get it out of my head: soutori, *something* with ai in that maid dress, and that sousuke now officially calls him 'ai' in canon.  
> ▼  
> sousuke/nitori | because i like to think once they get used to each other there would be a disgusting amount of teasing between them | warnings for nudity, awkward erections, momo questioning his life choices
> 
> \----------

“god, my back itches, my ass itches —  _everything_ itches.”

“um,” sousuke pauses, stopping dead in the entryway to ai and momo’s dorm room, his shoes skidding on the cheap paneled hardwood floor. he stifles a snort at ai’s full body jump, clearly startled by the deep tone of sousuke’s voice, even for only a single syllable.

ai turns slowly, eyes wide, the ridiculous maid outfit he has the misfortune of having to wear caught in a tangle around his waist. “you’re not momo…”

sousuke quirks a brow. “you talk to your kouhai like that?”

ai struggles with this, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “he doesn’t— i don’t usually—”

“it’s alright,” sousuke digresses, and then pats the wad of cheap tickets stuffed into his pocket. “i’m only here to hand out friend passes for the event.” sousuke smirks when ai shivers in a quiet struggle to get the dress to cooperate, as if sousuke wouldn’t notice. “though i appreciate the graphic detail. thankfully i never have - and never will - have to wear one.”

sousuke flicks at the tangled shoulders of the dress the way one might flick a fly from their food, and ai stiffens, broadening his stance, setting his shoulders. good. he’s getting better at fighting back.

“you can try mine on, if you like,” ai says with a tiny, teasing grin.

“tempting,” sousuke says in his usual carefully emotionless tone.

ai makes one last futile attempt at wriggling out of the dress, and when he whimpers in something like defeat sousuke finally takes pity on him. they really buy these things to fit tight, for whatever reason. ai turns red when sousuke places a palm on his bicep, and sousuke can feel where the skin heats in a blush when he wraps his fingers around the width of it. he did this in the pool, too, though the water must have had a cooling effect on his tendency to flush full-bodied. even ai’s bare shoulders are now flushed a delicate pink.

“need help?”

ai nods, frowning in a tiny mote of frustration.

sousuke takes his liberties running at full speed. he keeps ai facing him, reaching around behind, fingers seeking the small zip only half-done at the center of his back, right between his shoulder blades. ai shivers as sousuke’s hand skates down the curve of his spine, ending well below what would be deemed acceptable, even in the privacy of his room. judging by ai’s instant assumption, momo isn’t very good at respecting boundaries.

“it suits you, you know,” sousuke says, leaning just enough over ai’s shoulder that he speaks directly into his ear. he’s close enough that he can see the way ai’s pale skin breaks out in a frisson of goosebumps.

“well, being a butler suits  _you_ ,” ai snaps, with misguided snark. it only makes sousuke smile, which he hides behind the curve of ai’s ear.

“you say that like it’s an insult.”

ai shoves at sousuke, only to grab his tshirt in his small fists and pull him even closer on the rebound. sousuke’s gut lurches. “maybe from me it is.”

“you’re cute when you’re mad,” sousuke murmurs, this time intentional in his mouth’s proximity to ai’s ear.

ai flinches into him - rather than away, which is a new thing sousuke finds he craves when he teases him like this. he leaves it there for a moment, before pushing sousuke away as the rest of the dress slips down his thighs, holding sousuke at arm’s length with his palm. sousuke’s stomach does a dangerous swoop - all that’s left on ai is that gigantic bow and the long, sheer white stockings. nothing else.

“it’s cute you think i’m mad,” ai says, stepping — rather gracefully, for all his earlier struggle — out of the heaped mess of cheap fabric and lace on the floor.

sousuke bites his tongue, watching as ai leaves him standing like an anchor without a boat, sinking in the very center of his room.

 

which is when momotarou decides it would be a wonderful time to enter his dorm.

 

ai yelps, reaching for the nearest thing he can find to cover himself, which happens to be his own pillow. momo points a finger and laughs at ai’s clearly distressing predicament, ready to walk right in as if this is an everyday occurrence, only he stops dead when he catches sousuke stood stoic in the middle of their room - a fearful, monolithic presence.

“um, sousuke-senpai,” momo mumbles, confusion writ in his wide eyes as they skitter back and forth between both offending bodies in the room.

“ai is changing, please show your senpai some respect,” sousuke commands, and if his voice is any huskier than it might normally be, momo doesn’t seem to notice.

momo’s brows draw tightly together. “ _ai_?”

ai clutches the pillow tighter, falls stiffly to sit on the edge of his bunk. “momo-kun, please—”

“out,” sousuke bellows, and momo raises his hands up, backpedals out the way he came with not so much as another word on the compromised state of his senpais.

ai buries his face into the pillow held tight in his lap, his shoulders shaking. sousuke sighs heavily, ready to try and talk ai’s confidence back up again, only he realizes two steps from reaching him that he’s  _laughing_.

“the hell’s so funny?” sousuke asks, frowning and tugging at ai’s pillow until he lets go of it. ai seems oddly comfortable, in nothing but stockings and what is essentially a ribbon wrapped around his neck. a gift, sousuke’s mind supplies, in a weird sort of way.

“you had an erection that whole time,” ai says, after a quiet struggle to regain his breath.

he’s pointing at it with a single, delicate finger, and sousuke realizes he’s standing with his now softening dick at eye-level with the boy. great. he’s traumatized the first year, the day before he’s being forced into what he called  _‘the actual biggest boner-killer of the century’._ oh, the irony.

“you’re not getting any friend passes,” sousuke grumbles, stomping out of the room, the paper wad of tickets weighing down one side of his pants.

his phone rumbles in the opposite pocket once he’s not more than halfway down the hall. he doesn’t open it, but it’s a picture message, it says. from ‘ _ai_ ’. sousuke smirks at his screen. he’ll open it when he gets to his dorm — preferably when rin is nowhere to be found.


End file.
